<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Words He Never Got to Say by stressy_boy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964275">Words He Never Got to Say</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stressy_boy/pseuds/stressy_boy'>stressy_boy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Not a happy ending really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:15:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stressy_boy/pseuds/stressy_boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Witcher's don't feel is a lie...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Words He Never Got to Say</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The grass sways and bends to the will of the delicate winds, brushing against the black pant clad knee that was digging into the soil. Wisps of snow coloured hair whip him like a lover’s caress across his face, but he never bothered to move them; only staring down, golden eyes clash with the violent yellow petals of the dandelions in his hands. There were about thirty of the flowers clutched by their stems in his grasp.</p><p>
  <em>“Your name means Dandelion?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey-hey! Don’t laugh at me, Geralt! Dandelion is a great name!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Whatever you say, <strong>Dandelion.</strong>”</em>
</p><p>A softly stuttered sigh leaves his parted lip’s, but it was heavy with feeling, eyes crinkling at the sides as they screw shut. Images of a happy smile, heart stopping cornflower blue eyes that were the rarest of gems that he had ever seen, along with the chirp of a voice he would call annoying every time. The sounds of a lute being strummed haunts him, keeping him awake at night as the fire adjacent to him dies.</p><p>
  <em>“Geralt of Rivia! Oh, my good friend it’s so nice to see you, it’s been forever – come, come. Sit, I’ll get us some ale and you can tell me about the Witcher-ing things you’ve done!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Jaskier…”</em>
</p><p>He was the only one to have ever greeted him with warmth, with a smile, without fear. They had spent so long travelling. They had seen each other at their worst… at their best… and he always stayed right by his cruel side like a loyal dog. His <em>humble bard</em>. A hand reaches out, brushing away some dead grass that had blown onto the stone before him, revealing something carved on to it with beautiful calligraphy.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘Jaskier’</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“Jaskier…” The deep rumble of his voice sounds strained and it almost hurts as he stares at the headstone, and for a brief second, his bottom lip quivers. There was a moment before he gently places the bouquet of dandelions down before the gravestone, making sure they where left neat and tidy. Geralt touches the headstone like he would a new-born babe, first with his index finger. Touch feather-like and barely there as he caresses down the stone.</p><p>There are so many things he wishes he could say but he can’t, it’s like this every year. He kneels in the same place; he lays the same flowers. He opens his mouth but the words he so deeply wishes to make with his lips get caught in his chest… and he just can’t. So, he says what he always says.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I let you die.” He hangs his head in shame, feeling tears start to swell within his eyes as he presses his finger and thumb into the bridge of his nose to keep them back. Jaskier still had so much life to live… but he died, because Geralt wasn’t strong enough, he wasn’t fast enough- <em>his bard was dead</em>.</p><p>A hand, feminine and warm; consoling slips on to his shoulder and he welcomes it. His own slipping to rest on top of hers and he slowly looks up to stare into deep lilac eyes. Lilac eyes that are compassionate, mourning with him. Even if she scorned the bard for his jibs and jibes at her, she knew he meant something to the Witcher. Silently, Geralt stood, giving one last look to the grave where his bard lays, his little lark – his songbird. Before turning to Yennefer, walking with the powerful sorceress across the field, leaving Jaskier’s resting place.</p><p>
  <em>I miss you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I need you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I love you. </em>
</p><p>Are the words he never got to say…</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>